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Invincible

Page 28

by Troy Denning


  Jaina paused, recalling Caedus’s confusion at the end of the battle. She also recalled her own condition, how the strange surge in her Force powers had suddenly faded just before Caedus had redirected the stormtroopers’ fire. “Maybe Luke was there.”

  Mirta shook her head. “He wasn’t. I was conscious most of the time—and I didn’t see him.” She waved the blaster muzzle at the door. “Now get out of here. You’ve only got an hour before my next meds are due—and no offense, but I don’t want you as a roommate.”

  “No problem. We’d probably kill each other.” Jaina patted Mirta on the arm, then turned toward the door. “May the Force be with you, Mirta.”

  “Yeah, sure, Jedi,” Mirta said. “Shoot straight and run fast.”

  Jaina slipped out of the cell and closed the door behind her. She used her fingernail to scratch up the security console thumbprint reader, then started down the catwalk toward the turbolift.

  Jaina hadn’t taken even three steps when the muffled zing of a blaster discharge sounded from inside Mirta’s cell. She stopped, her heart dropping with shock and disbelief—then heard two more discharges and realized it wasn’t Mirta she should have been worried about.

  Kriffing Mandalorians.

  Seen through the egalitarian lens of a detention cell’s one-way transparisteel, the acclaimed Prince Isolder did not look so different from other men. He was a bit taller, perhaps, with squarer shoulders and straighter teeth. And there was something in his upright bearing, even sitting alone in a cramped durasteel cell, that hinted at his unshakable sense of self—at the quiet dignity that seemed to give him strength in even the most desperate and trying of circumstances.

  This was a man who had married for love in a culture that laughed at love, a father who had raised a Jedi daughter in a society that scorned Jedi, a prince who had always served his subjects first and his vanity last. He was a man, in short, of the best sort, a man with the wisdom to follow his own heart, and a heart large enough to make the journey worthwhile.

  And Caedus would have liked to believe that those were the reasons he found himself so reluctant to kill the man … but he knew better. The reason he was hesitating was because he was not certain that it was the right thing to do.

  The logical course was to let Lecersen and the Moffs have their fun with their nanokiller. Eliminating Tenel Ka and Allana was certainly not going to hurt the Alliance’s chances of winning the battle, and it might even help. But how could Caedus sacrifice his own child so that all the other children in the galaxy would grow up in safety? The way of the Sith was the way of pain, he knew that, but he did not see how he could let the Moffs kill his daughter without becoming a monster even worse than Palpatine or Exar Kun.

  Could Allana’s life be the price the Force demanded for peace? For making his vision of the white throne a reality?

  No, Caedus realized. Allana had been one of the beings in the vision. Without her, there would be no white throne.

  The knot of fear that had been binding Caedus’s insides slackened, and, with a new clarity, he saw what he had to do. He had to stop the Moffs’ plan at any cost. If he wanted to bring peace to the galaxy, he had to save Allana—not sacrifice her.

  The stomach-dropping thuboom of a hull-hit reverberated through the ship. The lights flickered and blinked out, then blinked on, out one more time, and finally returned to normal. Inside his cell, Isolder cast a nervous glance at the ceiling, then seemed to shrug off his anxiety and leaned back against the wall again.

  Caedus opened the cell door, but remained standing outside. Isolder glanced over, his eyes betraying none of the surprise that Caedus sensed in the Force.

  “Jacen Solo,” Isolder said, pointedly not rising. “I’ve been wondering why I haven’t been interrogated yet. Obviously, you’ve been saving the fun for yourself.”

  “It’s Caedus now, Prince Isolder,” Caedus said. “Darth Caedus. And the reason you haven’t been interrogated has nothing to do with fun. We have other means of locating the Jedi base, so I saw no need to impinge on your dignity.”

  Now Isolder did allow his surprise to show in his eyes. “How very considerate of you,” he said. “I wouldn’t have expected that from child-stealing scum such as yourself.”

  Caedus winced at the insult. “We all make mistakes,” he said, biting back his anger. There was nothing to be gained by retaliation, and Isolder deserved no punishment for speaking the truth as he saw it. “I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate that in good time. Now, if you’ll please come with me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Isolder said. “Whatever you—”

  “I wasn’t asking.” Caedus used the Force to pull Isolder off his bunk, then drew him stumbling through the door. “Please don’t consider my respect a weakness, Prince Isolder. That would be one of those mistakes I just mentioned.”

  “Of course,” Isolder answered, recovering his dignity along with his footing. “It seems I’m entirely at your disposal. May I inquire where you’re taking me?”

  “To join your crew aboard the Beam Racer,” Caedus said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to depart in the middle of a battle, but we’ve almost broken though. Once you’re clear of us, you should be safe enough.”

  Isolder stopped and turned around. “You’re releasing me? Why?”

  “Because my only other choice is to kill you,” Caedus said. “And I’d really rather not.”

  Isolder looked more than skeptical—he looked flat-out distrustful. “So I can lead you to the Jedi base.”

  “We already know where the base is,” Caedus said. “We’ll be jumping to Shedu Maad as soon as we break free of your daughter’s fleet.”

  Isolder’s face betrayed nothing, but Caedus could tell by the disappointment in the prince’s Force aura that his analysts had guessed correctly about the destination of the transports that had fled Uroro Station.

  “You’ll be free to go anywhere you wish, as long as you don’t allow yourself to be captured again,” Caedus continued. “It’s only fair to warn you that the Racer will explode at the first brush of a tractor beam.”

  Isolder frowned, obviously trying to figure out what Caedus was doing, then abruptly said, “This is about the nanokiller, isn’t it?”

  Caedus was actually surprised. “Very good, Prince. I’m afraid the Moffs are rather keen on using it against Tenel Ka.”

  Isolder glared at him with narrowed eyes, and Caedus could feel a murderous intent gathering in the Force.

  “You’re not as clever as you think, Jacen.” Isolder spat in Caedus’s eyes. “I’d rather die than fall for your ploy.”

  Caedus sighed and wiped the saliva away, wondering whether there was any way to convince the prince that this wasn’t a ploy. Clearly, Isolder believed Caedus was trying to trick him into inadvertently carrying the nanokiller onto the Dragon Queen—and it was certainly a reasonable assumption. The question was, could Caedus convince him of the truth? And was it worth the effort—especially when he had so much else to do, a battle to win, his sister to deal with … Luke to kill.

  The answer was regrettably obvious.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” As Caedus spoke, he was grasping Isolder in the Force. “And death is certainly an option.”

  Caedus made a twisting motion with his hand, snapping Isolder’s head around backward. There was a loud pop that made Caedus feel a little sick to his stomach, and the prince collapsed at his feet, dead before he hit the catwalk.

  Caedus sighed again, then removed the comlink from his chest pocket and managed to get a scratchy channel to his aide, Orlopp.

  “I’m afraid Prince Isolder won’t be joining his crew aboard the Beam Racer,” he said. “Tell them they’ll have to depart without him.”

  “… sure they will,” came the patchy reply. “They’re … loyal.”

  Of course they wouldn’t. Isolder had been a great man, a good leader. No decent crew in the galaxy would abandon him.

  “Then you’ll have to blow the ship in
her berth.” Caedus used the Force to levitate Isolder’s body, then started down the catwalk toward the infirmary and its fusion incinerator. “And void the hangar when it’s done. We can’t afford to take any chances with this.”

  What do you get when you cross an Ewok with an astromech droid? A short circuit!

  —Jacen Solo, age 15

  As Jaina hurried toward the lift tube, she noticed that the catwalk was gradually emptying ahead of her. No one seemed to be panicking to get out of her way, or even paying her much attention. But while there were plenty of nurses and orderlies entering patient cells, none was emerging. Only the droids seemed to be going about their normal business, wheeling medicine carts from door to door or popping into and out of cells with electronic chartpads in their hands.

  Jaina feared for a moment that someone had heard Mirta’s blaster shots—or noticed the absence of her guards—and triggered a security alarm. But the mood seemed to be more nervous than frightened, and when she passed an open door, those inside did not look away or pretend to be busy. They simply watched her pass with vague interest, as though they were wondering who she was that she didn’t feel the need to take shelter from the coming storm.

  And that was just what she was sensing, Jaina realized—the fear of approaching turmoil. A general hush had fallen over the entire wing, and the Force had gone electric with anxiety. She glanced through the safety mesh and saw that even the main deck of the infirmary, where the waiting area for the busy exam rooms was located, was gradually emptying.

  Jaina stopped at the next open door and poked her head into the cell. Inside, a female Falleen was working under the watchful eye of two black-armored escorts, changing the bandages of a Bothan male missing both arms and a leg. Judging by the smoothly scorched stump that the nurse was currently disinfecting, it appeared that he had lost the three limbs to lightsaber strikes.

  “Another assassin,” said a guard, noticing the object of Jaina’s gaze. “Don’t know why the Bothans keep sending them. Caedus just cuts ’em up and sends them down here.”

  “Something we can do for you, Captain?” asked the other, the older of the two.

  “Yes, thanks.” Jaina tore her gaze away from the Bothan, wondering if that was how she was going to end up. “Can you tell me why everything is getting so quiet? Is the Anakin Solo in trouble?”

  “The Anakin Solo’s doing fine, ma’am,” the guard said. “The last I heard, the Megador had those Hapan scolds on the run, and we were getting ready to jump with the rest of the fleet.”

  “You must not do much duty in the infirmary,” the young guard added. “It always gets like this when Darth Maniac is around.”

  “Darth Maniac?” Jaina’s pulse began to pound in her ears. “Caedus is here—in the infirmary?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The older guard scowled at his young companion, no doubt misinterpreting Jaina’s surprise as disapproval of the nickname. “Word is, he’s in the scanning booth.”

  “Coming up here?” Jaina asked, thinking of Mirta and the obvious attention Caedus had been paying her. “In the middle of a battle?”

  The guard shrugged. “Maybe not this time. They say he’s got a body with him, so he could be headed to the disposal pit.”

  A body. In the prison hold.

  Jaina thought of Isolder and made the most likely assumption, and her heart sank. She backed out of the cell without thanking the guards, then started down the catwalk as fast as she could move and still be walking. She tried not to imagine what had happened, but the answer was too obvious to ignore. After the blood trail went dead at Uroro Station, Caedus had no doubt resorted to his favorite trick and tortured the information out of Isolder. Now the prince was dead and the fleet was preparing to jump to Shedu Maad. Truly, there was no low to which her brother would not sink.

  As Jaina walked, she concentrated on vanishing into the Force and stayed near the inner side of the catwalk. She didn’t know quite how Caedus’s blood trail worked, but she suspected it would be stronger when they drew near to each other. And if his danger sense began to tingle because she was focusing on him too intently, he would know she was closing in.

  Once Jaina reached the lift tube, however, she allowed herself a quick glance down to the main deck. Five dark figures were escorting a hovergurney around the disposal pit toward a cargo lift at the far end. Four of the figures were armored, and the fifth was raising his hand, signaling the others to stop while he craned his neck back to look around.

  Jaina pulled away and focused her mind on Zekk, on the hope that he was still alive because she hadn’t felt him die, on how much she was going to miss him if he had. And she thought, also, of the terrible likelihood that she would never know what had happened to him—that he had managed to go EV before his StealthX was destroyed, then been swallowed up by the Mists. Even with an active rescue beacon, he would be nearly impossible to locate with normal equipment; the Mists would simply devour the sensor waves. If Zekk—or his body—was going to be found, it would be by a Jedi.

  Hoping she would live long enough to help with the search, Jaina stepped into the lift tube and began her descent. She had no idea whether focusing on Zekk had worked. Maybe Caedus had dismissed whatever he had felt as the glare of an unhappy subordinate. Or maybe he would be waiting, lightsaber in hand, as the lift door opened. Jaina only knew that if he had felt even that brief glance, she could not risk another.

  She emerged from the lift with her lightsaber semihidden behind her forearm. To her relief, the only thing waiting was an MD droid about to step into the tube.

  “Lord Caedus and his escorts, did you see them going toward the disposal pit?”

  “Why yes, Captain,” the droid replied politely. “They had a body with them, Prisoner Ay-Ess-Two-Three-Oh-Fifty-two-Ar, I believe.”

  “Would that be Prince Isolder?” Jaina asked.

  “I believe that was his name, yes,” the droid replied. “The poor man—it looked like Lord Caedus had snapped three of his cervical vertebrae.”

  “Thanks.” Jaina started across the deck toward the cargo lift, her anger boiling in her stomach—then something the droid had said caught her attention, and she spun around to ask, “The prisoner’s neck—how do you know it was Lord Caedus who snapped it?”

  The droid stopped inside the lift and turned to face her. “It always is, Captain.”

  The MD droid pressed a control button and ascended out of sight.

  As Jaina started toward the morgue lift, a stern female voice suddenly echoed across the main deck.

  “Your attention: all Prison Hold surveillance and communications systems have been restored. Maintain Lockdown Level Two. We’ll be jumping to final objective in five minutes. Repeat, five minutes. This will be your final announcement.”

  The final objective would be Shedu Maad, Jaina knew. She couldn’t say whether killing Caedus would prevent the assault on their base—she kind of doubted it, as a matter of fact—but it might confuse things enough to give the Jedi a fighting chance.

  Recalling the surge of Force power she had experienced when she fought Caedus the first time, Jaina wondered if she should reach out to her uncle Luke when the fight began. Perhaps he would be able to bolster her strength as he had on Nickel One. But then she recalled Mirta’s comment about her brother underestimating her, and she realized that calling on Luke would be a mistake. From what Mirta had said—and what she had observed herself on Nickel One—Caedus was obsessed with their uncle. He would be ready for Luke’s strength, prepared to see through Luke’s illusions as he had not been the first time.

  If Jaina expected to win this fight, she would have to fight in a different way—her own way.

  She stepped into the cargo lift and descended. There was a growing stench of disinfectant and hot metal, and the air grew warm and still. When she reached the morgue level, she was tempted to use the Force to probe for the location of Caedus’s guards. She resisted. Either the guards were waiting for her or they weren’t—and if they
weren’t, she would only be giving Caedus a warning he did not need or deserve.

  The door opened into a rectangular corridor, wider than it was tall, with gray durasteel walls and a long row of hatches running down one side. The four guards were standing about ten meters away, in front of a single hatch on the opposite side, looking back toward the cargo lift. There was no sign of Caedus; presumably, he had gone through the hatch behind the guards.

  Jaina hurled herself onto the floor, rolling toward the four and shrieking softly but shrilly. They swung their blasters around, letting out curses of surprise and confusion. Jaina rolled to a knee about three meters in front of them and pointed back toward the lift.

  “B-b-bothans!” she stammered.

  That was all it took. The guards raced past her, bringing their blaster rifles up to fire. Jaina sprang up behind them and ignited her lightsaber, then used a single stroke to cut all four men in half.

  The fight had begun.

  The Biodisposal Pit was just what the name suggested, a sweltering, foul-smelling durasteel hole into which poured all of the dirty bandages, used scalpels, excised organs, dead bodies, and other hazardous waste from not only the infirmary but the Anakin Solo’s entire Prison Hold as well. As might be expected, it was a relatively quiet and lonely place, half cloaked in shadow by the overhanging expanse of the main deck, and half illuminated by the harsh brilliance spilling from the open mouth of the fusion incinerator.

  Having left his guards on the other side of the hatch where they would not witness the gross violation of prison procedure he was about to commit, Caedus was left to pull Isolder by himself. As he dragged the hovergurney toward the fusion incinerator, an overqualified GP-2 medical droid rushed out of the shadows, holding a dripping scalpel in one hand and waving the other in a frantic gesture to capture his attention.

 

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